


Handle With Care

by ShakespeareanHoneyBadgers



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Light BDSM
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 10:23:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4133967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShakespeareanHoneyBadgers/pseuds/ShakespeareanHoneyBadgers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle has always been turned on by the idea of Rumplestiltskin, the Dark One. When he is called to save her city, she's eager. He demands her as his price and she's thrilled, a little scared, but mostly terribly turned on. He doesn't expect anything from her (after all, he just wants the company) but he quickly discovers his little maid needs more from him. Tentative at first, he soon settles into his commanding nature & she's all too happy to follow wherever he leads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Renea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renea/gifts).



Most young noblewomen dreamed of young men courting them; they swooned over the tales of princes rescuing maidens from monsters. But she had never seen herself with the prince; her dreams were about the monster. She imagined being saved from an ordinary life by something too feared to be stolen from, whisked away to start a life of adventure at the side of a powerful beast.

Belle spent her childhood devouring books but no matter how far she looked no protagonist could hold her interest. It was the other side that enchanted her and as she learned from the other girls, this made her…odd.

Her condition only grew worse with adolescence and her discovery of the Dark One. A late night with a book her father would burn if he knew she had found it introduced her to the most powerful man in all the realms. The sketches showed something that stood like a man, dressed in leather breeches, boots, and a scaled coat. Wild curls of hair framed a speckled-skinned face with lizard eyes and vampiric fangs. Fingers were tipped with dagger-like claws and he sneered at a frightened young mother who clutched her baby tightly. Something about the sketch called out to her and her mind drifted to his intense gaze being directed to her; his claws trailing down her skin, him biting into her shoulder to demonstrate who was in charge…

Belle was startled by a heat in her hips and she had no idea what it meant. She knew the symptoms of her monthly and it wasn’t that… She read on about the Dark One, how he preyed on desperate souls and his particular interest in newborns as payment. The speculation of him being some sort of incubus. A sting accompanied the heat, pleasant but annoying. She found some relief in crossing her legs and clenching her thighs, but otherwise she just waited for it to pass.

She had found her perfect monster; beastly and yet human enough to be attractive. Late at night she refined her fantasies, centering them around the sorcerer. He would take her away to an extraordinary life, full of magic and fantastical beasts with far off lands she couldn’t even believe in going to. All he would require in return was her, completely. Her would own her; not her mind but the rest of her…especially her body. He’d come to her at night absolutely ravenous taking her passionately again and again. She give him pleasure and he would return it past the point she thought possible to handle.

He wouldn’t treat her the same as Gaston; not as a piece of property. He would possess her, but she would be his treasure. He would have no trouble with her curiosity, her avid reading or her inability to keep silent on things that mattered. They would respect each other, but there would be no question to his domination.

Then the ogres came to destroy their land, and the Dark One didn’t respond to their plea, and Belle started to wonder if she had been wrong. If there was nothing beautiful in the darkness and monsters were just evil.

But he did come. He was shorter than the pictures had led her to believe; his claws dull and his lack of fangs. But his presence filled the room and when he pointed at her… She wasn’t sure if she was more afraid or excited. That phrasing…”caretaker” for his “rather…large…estate”… She could tell by the expression on the other mens’ faces that it wasn’t just her fantasies playing tricks on her.

Here was her chance; even as terrified as she was she knew she had to take it. And the first few days she wondered if it was truly just a sacrifice for her people; locked in a dungeon, cleaning bloody aprons knowing he was torturing a man a few cells down from her, taking her book away… 

But after the way he listened to her plea for the thief’s life, after he shared a blanket with her and helped her out of the carriage, and especially seeing his reaction to someone offering to trade information for using her… She knew she was where she wanted to be.

III

Rumplestiltskin couldn’t pinpoint why he had decided his price would be the lord’s daughter… Well to be accurate, it was that he _wouldn’t_ pinpoint why. He skirted the reason every time his mind wandered in that direction. He was the Dark One; he had traded for a noblewoman to humiliate her and terrify the men in the council, get those rumors up and running again. It wasn’t the idea of having someone to come home to, another live soul in the castle that he could talk to. It certainly wasn’t the fact that she was the first one in a very long time to meet his presence with curiosity instead of fear or disgust. 

No. That would be _absurd_. 

He was content to just have a little maid to torment, but she seemed to have other ideas. If just one of the changes had occurred he might’ve marked it as an isolated incident, such as the sudden drop in her neckline. But he kept finding her in compromising positions; bent over furniture, on her hands and knees. Her posture turned submissive when he gave her an order and there was something…suggestive in the way she gazed up at him through her lashes. 

Decoding signals of female desire had never been his strong suit but, after catching her in his chair, there wasn’t any room for doubting what she wanted.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he had told her on the way out the door, “Try not to burn the castle down.”

“I think I’ll manage,” she had responded, setting a new basketful of straw down to replace the spool he had spun this morning, “You have anything else for me?”

“Not off the top of my head, dearie, but I’ll think of something for this evening,” he promised, “Keep yourself occupied until then.”

“Yes sir,” she murmured, and had Rumplestiltskin imagined the husky tone, or the mischievous glimmer in her eye?

It threw him off, to the point that he had gotten all the way to town without the dragon egg he was negotiating with. And sure he could just summon it, but why do that when he could make the other party squirm due to his tardiness. Besides, he needed to make sure his maid kept out of things she shouldn’t be in.

He materialized in the doorway, expecting to see her in the chair that he hadn’t bothered to move away from the window that she liked to read in. Instead she was in a much different chair… _his_ chair, in front of the hearth. Her wrist flexed and he caught the gold strand she had wrapped around it, keeping it bound to the arm of the chair. Whimpers that shot straight to his pelvis rose from her throat and he heard the rustle of her skirts.

The meek spinner in him wanted to rush and grab the dragon’s egg and leave, but he approached his chair, staring at the sight. Her eyes were closed with her head tilted back, exposing her pale throat and exaggerating the rise and fall of her chest. Her lips were parted to allow her cries to slip out, legs spread as wide as the chair allowed. He watched as her free hand moved around her bodice, fingers curled and nails lightly scratching against fabric and flesh. It was the most erotic pose he had ever seen a fully-clothed woman in and he stared, both disbelieving and aroused at the game his maid was playing with herself.

He wasn’t aware how long he stood simply watching her; long enough for her hand to travel to her stomach, long enough that he had developed an erection. Belle’s eyes flit open and she started at him hovering hardly a foot away. Rumplestiltskin didn’t move; whatever shyness he felt at intruding on such a private moment had fled in the wake of a hunger that had been building. She shrank back and he knew there was no masking his desire.

“You’re in my chair,” he said slowly, the words falling languidly from his lips. Belle swallowed, her eyes flicking down to his outlined shaft. Instead of disgust or horror as he expected, a needy mewl came from her.

Her free hand went to rest on the other arm; her back arched ever so slightly.

“I’m sitting in the master’s chair,” she rasped.

She wanted him to take her. Not like a lover, but like a master.

He leaned over her, bracing himself with one hand holding the back of the chair. She writhed underneath him, and he feared it was some sort of feeble attempt to get away.

“Be still,” he commanded, knowing full well she’d just ignore it if she wanted to. But with some effort she forced herself to calm and he went to stroke her neck. Her breathing slowed as her eyes stayed focused on his face, even as his fingers trailed down to her breasts. He mimicked what she had been doing to herself earlier, claws carefully scratching, and her breathing hitched. He stopped until she began again, meeting her gaze.

“Unlace your bodice,” he said. She gave a small shake of her head and he worried he had crossed a line.

“I can’t,” she pleaded, “My wrists are bound.”

Clearly that wasn’t the case, but he had intervened with her game. He would play it her way.

He unlaced the front of her dress and slipped a hand inside, cupping her breast. She convulsed beneath him and he waited until she composed herself.

So soft…so warm… It was all he could do not to tear her dress off. His other hand gathered the skirt up to her knees before delving inside, seeking her underclothes. It was his turn to groan as he felt how damp she was even through the fabric. 

“Please…” Belle whispered, pressing her hips against him.

It snapped him to his senses and he withdrew both of his hands. She protested, nearly getting up out of the chair as he stepped away, “Rumple!”

“Be still,” he repeated and, despite her grimace, she sat back, “I have business to attend to; I will be back in a few hours. I expect you to be in my bed when I return, naked and ready to welcome me back.”

He didn’t look back at her, hurrying to get what he had returned for. He had almost gone too far… He would give her time to come to her senses. And, well, if she obeyed his orders, then he’d know for certain it was what she wanted.

Belle fought back tears of frustration as Rumplestiltskin retreated. The coward… She had been on the brink of her fantasy, drunk off of the feral hunger in his eye, feeling his claws on her flesh. But he apparently felt guilty or something, and she supposed she didn’t want to lose her maidenhead in a chair.

She untied her wrist, letting the gold thread fall. No matter; he had given her his orders and she would follow them. And if he still backed out then SHE’D be the one tying HIM to the bed.


	2. Lying In Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle gives herself over to Rumplestiltskin completely, while Rumple tests out being her dom.

Belle really shouldn’t know where Rumplestiltskin’s bedchambers were; she had never been invited there either for work or pleasure. Until now, that was.

She immediately stripped down upon entering his room, which hardly looked like it belonged in the Dark Castle. There were no trinkets on display, no elaborate decorum… Just a wardrobe, an ancient spinning wheel and a bed with a sheepskin blanket. She folded up the sheepskin blanket and set it aside, sprawling across the sheet. She waited for him, the temptation to touch herself nearly irresistible. But she kept her hands at her sides and her eyes on the door, aware of the gooseflesh covering her bare skin and the damp patch forming beneath her.

The wait seemed like an eternity.

She heard his boots first, making their way down the hallway. Her toes curled and her back arched, positive he was tormenting her with his slow pace. He stopped and she saw his shadow under the crack of the door. She bit back a whine, digging her nails into the mattress.

The door creaked open and Rumplestiltskin stuck his head in. His eyes widened and Belle suspected he hadn’t expected her to actually _do_ what he commanded. He really ought to give her more credit as far as knowing what she wanted.

The surprise faded from the Dark One’s expression and was replaced with a greed that sank down to Belle’s core. He stepped into the room casually, his eyes making their way down her body. She flushed but refused to cover herself and when his gaze came down to her hips she spread her legs, letting him see what the waiting had done to her. His nostrils flared and he exhaled in a sharp hiss; her inner walls twitched involuntarily.

His eyes came to meet hers and her throat filled with a mix of anticipation, desire, and fear. His voice was a growl, “Are you a maiden?”

She wasn’t sure why it was relevant, but she answered softly, “Yes.” He nodded. 

Something snaked around Belle’s wrist and she glanced down, feeling the light pressure of magic against her skin. An invisible cord pulled Belle’s arm up, stretching it away from her body and fixing itself at some point on the side of the bed. She tugged but felt only a slight give in the force, binding her as sure as any rope. 

She turned back to Rumplestiltskin and he raised his eyebrows questioningly. She gave a small nod and soon felt her other arm stretched out, then her legs. She lay spread out before him like an erotic star, completely vulnerable to him and his desires. She keened and shifted, begging for his attention.

Rumplestiltskin didn’t chastise her for her impatience; he continued to drink her in as he started peeling off his clothes layer by layer. Coat, boots, socks, the trivial things, before he finally got to shedding his shirt. His torso was the lean, muscular build she had imagined and she barely had enough time to take in his smooth chest before he was reaching for his pants. 

It was her first unillustrated look at the male anatomy and she wasn’t convinced her inexperience was why it seemed so large. He paid no attention to his state, crawling onto the bed and towards her. Her breath caught as he attacked, lips moving over her skin feverishly while his teeth gently nipping every so often. She whimpered as he panted against her, a hand caressing her side, her stomach, her breast. She pressed herself against him and felt his heart beat against hers, the rise and fall as they both gasped for air, his desire for her pressed against her thigh. 

“Please,” she begged, shuddering as his tongue swirled around her nipple, “Please Rumple.”

His teeth gently pressed into the sensitive bud and she cried out. He sat back and she panicked, fearing he’d leave her again. But he just watched her as if he were waiting for something.

Belle quickly recognized her mistake, “Please master,” she corrected herself, “Please…”

“Please what?” He asked, his hand dipping between her legs. Belle gasped, clenching desperately as his fingers teased her entrance. He held them up, coated in her juices, and she watched as his tongue snaked out for a taste.

“Please!” She screamed.

“Be articulate, dearie,” he admonished, using the excess to coat his erection, “What do you want?”

“I want you inside me!” She pleaded, fighting tears of frustration, “I want to be taken by my master, I want his cock to fill me up and I want him to fuck me until he comes!”

His member twitched at her words and Rumplestiltskin tilted his head. He maintained eye contact as his fingers slipped inside of her a second time, teasing her as he gathered more to lubricate himself.

“This is what you want,” he murmured.

“This is what I want,” she agreed vehemently. He leaned over her and she forced the anxiety rising in her back down. This was what she wanted…even though she knew what was to be expected during her first time.

He leaned down and pressed his lips tenderly to hers. Her own pursed lightly, afraid if she put too much into it the gentleness of the action would be lost. He held it for a moment before he entered her.

Belle bit back a cry as a sharp pain moved through her but it was soon replaced by the sensation of wholeness. He waited for her to adjust before beginning a slow rhythm, and the pain was forgotten in the wake of a pleasure she couldn’t begin to describe.

Bound to the bed, she was limited, even if she knew what to do. She angled her hips upwards, trying to match his pace. She could hear his soft groans even over her cries, observed the grace in his thrusts. He nuzzled and kissed her throat with murmurs she couldn’t make out. The cord of pleasure tightened each time their hips met, and though he sped up she still felt like she’d go mad before they finished.

The cord snapped and her released washed through her with a final shout, the moment prolonged as he continued to move inside of her. A soft guttural cry preceded a new warmth and Rumplestiltskin slowed, relaxing for a moment before sliding out.

Her restraints vanished and she could move freely once again. She felt…empty. Hollow. What she thought was just a shiver turned into shaking.

That was it. That had been her first time. She had bared herself to him, he had entered her, she had found her bliss, and then he had spilled his seed in her. It was over.

“Belle…” He murmured but she turned her face away, humiliated at the tears spilling out. A hand stroked her hair back, “Are you alright?”

She laughed, “Yes,” she said, “I’m fine, I liked it, I just don’t know why…” Her shoulders shook as she broke down further.

Suddenly the sheepskin blanket was over her and she turned to find Rumplestiltskin lying beside her. 

“It’s alright,” he cooed, “You’re fine, it’s completely normal to cry after the first time.”

It probably was frowned upon for a submissive to seek comfort from her master, but Belle didn’t feel like being a loyal bed slave right then. She curled up into Rumplestiltskin and he wrapped his arm around her, stroking her back as she wept.

“It’s an intense experience,” he empathized, tracing patterns along her skin, “I mean… _I_ cried when I lost my virginity too.” Belle gave a choked laugh and Rumplestiltskin smiled, “What, that’s funny to you? Picturing scary ol’ Rumplestiltskin weeping because he became a man?”

“You’re not that scary,” she murmured and his hand stopped.

“…I suppose I’ll have to prove you wrong during the next round, eh?” He challenged, though Belle knew better than to take the threat seriously.

It was hard to believe that this was the same man who thought throwing a pillow at her would keep her from crying. Maybe he was showing her new sides of himself like she had showed him this afternoon. Maybe bedding a woman was waking up the humanity she knew was inside of him somewhere. 

Belle had never thought out endings to her fantasies; a lot of consideration went into foreplay and actual play, but after the deed had been done she had abandoned the story. Cuddling with the beast who did care deep down whether she cried probably wouldn’t have been her idea of a last scene, but now that she was living it she had to say it was rather nice.


End file.
